"A little comedy to start the show!" Tuka said forcefully. A few audience members applauded weakly. "Go on!" he stage-whispered to Wiglaf.
"Uh, well, yes," said the shaken wizard. "Er, okay. Magic-using is more than just, uh, dazzling beauty." A stifled laugh in the crowd became a snort and then a hacking cough. "It's also essential in a tight situation. If a magician knows what he's doing, he can outleap the strongest fighter." Sasha blanched at the reference. "Stand back, folks, and 111 show you."
In his mind, Wiglaf went over the incantation for the spell that would allow him to jump thirty feet in the air. Then he'd softly feather fall back to the ground and shut them up for good. He bent his knees and crouched, ready to spring. "Watch closely. Here… we… go!"
He mumbled and uncoiled.
A five-foot pit irised open beneath his feet.
For an instant, he hung suspended. Then he shrieked and disappeared into it with a clump.
They saw his hands first. With an effort, he clambered out.
"We'll try another one," he snarled.
People were clapping each other on the back, doubled over with laughter. Others were losing interest and starting to heckle.
He tried to conjure a magical light and found himself staggering out of a cone of darkness, unable to see or hear. He tried to generate a blinding spray of colors and levitated a poor woman into the air; she was saved from a nasty fall only because her husband held onto her legs for dear life as they rose past his head. He tried to raise an acorn to ten times its size and nothing happened-but later that afternoon, the owner of the adjacent farm was surprised to discover his prize hen proudly strutting around an egg two feet long. He tried to erase some writing from a scroll and gave himself a hotfoot. He tried to enlarge the fire from a torch and teleported a cow up a tree.
With each grandiose failure, both the laughter and the grumbling grew louder. But it wasn't until he tried to mend a volunteer's hem through the force of his will, and the force of his will pulled down thirty people's pants, that the Amazing Wiglaf Show finally turned ugly.
Wiglaf was devastated. He had never been so miserable. Last night he had been the most important man in town.
But today people only pointed and laughed-or pointed and cursed, depending on their degree of participation in his ultimate, showstopping feat. He felt ridiculous. The sight of Tuka, Sasha, and Fenzig returning all the money had been bad enough, but many people in the long refund line had also shaken their hands and thanked them for a wonderful time. Wiglaf was the town clown, and as he sat alone at the Ale amp; Hearty, he had plenty of time to think about it.
Maybe the robe had helped focus his magical power. So what? What good did that do when he didn't know enough about magic to wield it in the first place? He should have stayed in Calimport. He should have stayed a baker. He should have stayed in his mother's womb, where it was nice and safe.
"Buy a girl a drink, magic man?" It was Sasha.
"I'm broke, remember? Not even the bartender wants to be seen with me."
"Tough day, huh? Oh, well, I'm not the kind of girl who gets drinks bought for her, anyway." She smiled grimly and sat. "Listen, Wiglaf, I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time. I just didn't believe you were really a magician."
"I'm not. Just a student who didn't even have the sense to keep on studying."
"Maybe you're finally learning something."
"This robe. It… changed me. But whatever it did was an illusion. A fake. It's like… I took something that wasn't mine. I took a reputation I didn't deserve. An ability I hadn't developed. I called myself a magician and insulted everybody who really is one." Wiglaf s eyes became animated again, and his voice rose. "And I know what I'm going to do about it right now. I'm taking this robe back, if I have to fight ten packs of dogs to do it."
Sasha's smile revealed a perfect set of teeth. "I'm very glad to hear you say that, Wigla-"
"WIGLAF!"
It was Tuka, rushing in from outside, opening the door on a piercingly loud animal roar. The air rushing into the tavern felt like a hot summer day, and the sky they could see through the door had turned from morning's overcast to a bright yellow.
Sky… yellow?
"Wiglaf! Sasha! If you've got weapons, get out here now!"
They tore out of the tavern, and Wiglaf s confusion instantly dissipated. In this day full of unwanted sights, this was by far the worst. A mammoth red dragon was just pulling out of an aerial attack run into the town square, yellow flames pouring from its gigantic maw. Twenty or thirty villagers brandished weapons against the beast; some threw spears or loosed arrows, but those who knew how to fight were few, and the monster was large. One building was already on fire. Wiglaf was nearly bowled over by the heated backwash from the dragon's flight. It snorted as it climbed for another pass, and a tree caught fire like a matchstick. Silhouetted against the gray sky, the dragon flew up in a wide arc to launch another attack.
"Find someplace to hide! Take cover! Take cover!" Tuka screamed.
A woman ran to Wiglaf and clenched his robe, shrieking with terror. "Magic-user! Do something! Help us! I have children! DO SOMETHING!" Maybe she hadn't seen the demonstration this morning. Maybe she was so afraid that she was willing to believe anything. But she was trying to grasp at the only thing she could see: Wiglaf s magic. She really thought he could help.
"Wiglaf, let's go!" Sasha shouted. She pulled the woman off him. "Go now!" She tugged at his robe.
The dragon turned in the sky, straightened, and headed back.
"No!" Wiglaf pulled himself free. "Get away, Sasha. I have to try."
"With what? This is no dog! It'll kill you!"
"I have to try."
"You idiot!" Sasha pulled the still-screaming woman out of the square, leaving Wiglaf alone to face the monster, which was picking up speed and dropping altitude to find the perfect flamethrowing angle.
Wiglaf could trust only one spelclass="underline" burning hands, the one he'd used against the dogs. The way it had roared out of his fingertips last night, the flame had almost matched a dragon's intensity. Maybe if he fought fire with fire, the beast would act like most animals and retreat.
He took a deep breath, planted his feet, spread his fingers, and joined his thumbs. The dragon noticed the lone unmoving figure as it continued to accelerate. It adjusted its approach angle. Now it was coming straight for' Wiglaf-and inhaling.
His knees felt like pudding as he watched the monster approach, and his voice was shaking as he began the incantation, but Wiglaf did not move. He stood his ground and faced the beast as it screamed forward. He managed to get the words out-and sighed with relief when magical force crackled toward his fingertips, and he stood with teeth clenched and eyes flashing as adrenalin pumped through him.
He aimed his burning hands at the dragon, and from them poured a spray of vegetables.
The first few bushels that struck the dragon actually did some physical damage before vanishing on impact, such was the speed of its attack run. They smacked painfully at its scaly hide and, as Wiglaf adjusted his aim before he could register what he was dispensing, worried its eyes and nose. The confusion was the important thing. The dragon spit flamelessly and blinked its eyes again and again. Still the veggies came, slowing its forward motion until it was almost hovering.
Wiglaf finally regained his senses enough to understand, but realized his outrageous spell was the only thing holding the creature at bay.
He held his arms firmly forward.
On and on, the dragon was pelted with representatives of every single member of a major food group, until it shook its head and finally took a breath to eradicate this problem once and for all.